


Anonymous

by kassanovella



Category: Star Wars, Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Angst, Babby's First Hatefuck, Bareback Ben, Ben Solo has a lot of feelings, Choking, Dirty Talk, F/M, Fuck her right in the pussy, Porn with Feelings, Reader-Insert, Rough Sex, Shameless Smut, Smut, The Fall of Ben Solo, Unsafe Sex, Unsanitary Sex Location, Virginity Loss, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-16
Updated: 2016-10-16
Packaged: 2018-08-22 21:03:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8300927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kassanovella/pseuds/kassanovella
Summary: Luke Skywalker was a liar.Had he the ability, Ben would have scrubbed every corner of his mind free of the old man. He’d erase it all, eliminate every bubble of a memory. All of it, supposedly done under the guise of love. And all of it, an empty, worthless lie.





	

Luke Skywalker was a liar.

Had he the ability, Ben would have scrubbed every corner of his mind free of the old man--every teaching, every attempt at guidance. Every single time he’d been held back, or admonished, or redirected. He’d erase it all, eliminate every bubble of a memory. All of it, supposedly done under the guise of _love_. And all of it, an empty, worthless _lie_.

The flight controls were slippery under Ben’s trembling, sweating hands--but it only made him grip tighter, his mind a tempest, whirling with feelings he’d long fought to snuff under the surface of serenity. They scared him--they had for years. They were too powerful, too sharp, like a cleaver dangling over the tethers of his control. He’d seen their echoes in the terrified eyes of his father, in his mother’s worried smile, in the firmness of Luke’s tempering hand. They’d tormented him. And now they spun around him like wicked whispers, scraping their claws over his skin.

He needed a planet. Any planet. One that would allow him anonymity and some semblance of peace. 

_Peace doesn’t exist for you, Solo._

“Shut up,” he mumbled to himself. 

Ben had managed to suffocate that voice to a muffled whisper for over a decade--but now, it screamed at him as he guided his fingers over the ship’s panels. He wanted to plug his brain’s ears--all he needed was time, time to figure out his next steps. Time away from Luke Skywalker, away from the new Order, away from the curtain of deception that had shielded his eyes for far too long.

The planet he’d chosen was a winnowed waste of a place. He landed the tiny transporter outside of the only collection of buildings resembling a town within miles, watching the locals through the window. Exhaustion echoed in the hulls of their skulls--a few pleased. The sun was setting over the horizon. He supposed they were finished with their labor.

But what Ben wanted was to be anonymous. To disappear. To spend a night without the pitying eyes of his peers or his family, their minds buzzing with fear. Darth Vader’s grandson, he was sure they were thinking, no wonder he’s always destroying things. No wonder he’s always so _angry._

_Your power is a gift._

“Shut _up_.” 

With the death of the day, blankets of blue and purple clouds bloomed in the night, burning to a bright pink-orange near the body of the sun. The sky was a bruised peach, the encroaching darkness turning the window of the transporter into a distorted mirror. Ben could see himself, now, and put his appearance under scrutiny. 

He seemed nondescript enough. Unrecognizable to most. Even though when he looked, all he could see were Leia Organa’s twinkling eyes and wry smile, Han Solo’s long nose and high cheekbones. He swallowed, face growing hot. Wild curls sprung from his hair, blown out from sweat and rage. If he thought about it--all of them were liars, really. It wasn’t just Luke. It was his mother. His father, too. Not that Ben had expected any better from him. 

His stomach churned with new fury. All of them, every one of them. Selfish traitors.

Brain pounding at his cranium, he sucked in a breath through a tight jaw, going to disembark, but catching a glimpse of his reflection a final time. He’d almost missed it--the long, tight braid dangling over his shoulder. A marker of his status. Of his permanent, inescapable inferiority.

Lip furling, he snatched the braid, wrapped it around his fist, and, gritting his teeth, ripped it from his head, seething as pain rippled through his scalp. It’d been clean--no blood, no skin--but it didn’t stop him from taking a moment to stare at the limp lock of hair in his hands. 

Freedom. 

The dying reminder of his defiance lingered on his skin as he dropped out of the ship and trudged his way into the cantina. It was dim, cramped, full of races familiar and not. Noise bombarded his ears--nothing he identified as music or language--just _noise_ , loud and encompassing and skin-shearingly _irritating_. Ben grit his teeth, resilient, reasoning that the level of distraction inside the building was positive. It drew less attention to him, gave him the perfect sheath in which to cocoon himself. Even if he was one of the few humans in the place. Even if the Rodian in the corner was scrutinizing his robes--what was _he_ looking at? 

Ben swallowed again. His hand was twitching to sling an invisible fist around that lowlife’s neck and choke the curiosity out of him. But no. He drew in a long, quiet breath through his nose, taking a solitary seat at the bar. He knew better. And, more than anything, he loathed the thought of attracting attention. Sighing, he rapped his long fingers along the cool metal of the counter, staring into his own chrome reflection. Given a few days--maybe a week--spent in obscurity, and he’d know what to do. Where to go. Though he couldn’t imagine returning to the Jedi.

_You don’t have to._

“Shut up!” Ben hissed.

The bartender spun on him, a fuzzy brow raised in confusion. Ben’s cheeks went pink--he hadn’t realized how loud he’d been. He offered a brief nod in apology, clearing his throat and returning to the intense and important examination of the backs of his hands. Just a few days of being completely and totally alone--

“Who are you telling to shut up?”

A voice, saccharine and inquisitive. Ben’s eye twitched, and he turned toward its source. A woman. His age. Maybe. He wasn’t good at guessing that. But she was pretty. And, despite that, far, _far_ too interested in his personal affairs.

“No one,” he replied, brow furrowing. 

Supplying him with a broad smile, she leaned over the counter, inching nearer to him. “Really?” she asked. “You sure?”

He blinked. “Yes.” His mother’s ingrained politeness was the only deterrent to his desire to tell her to fuck off.

“Huh.” She shrugged. “I haven’t seen you around here, before. My name’s--”

“I haven’t been around here, before.”

“No way!” she replied, giggling. His eye twitched again. “Where are you from, then?”

Ben’s gaze drifted from hers to the bar, his mind running through his options. Luke had been far too transient in his studies to maintain a consistent address. And Hosnian Prime wasn’t home. Not anymore. In truth, Ben could end the conversation and forgo the answer altogether. But she was interested. Responding to his influence. He _liked_ it. 

So, he decided that honesty was no option, either. He was the _grandson_ of _Darth Vader_. That fact had already ruined every (what he had thought) stable relationship in his life. There was no need to shatter one before it began.

Shifting in his seat, he met her stare again. “Around.”

“Ah.” The woman gave him a wry smile. “Is that why you’re wearing… that?”

His body tensed. He was already regretting his decision to let her stay. “Wearing _what_?”

“You know!” She made a broad, sweeping gesture over his frame, laughing. “All this.”

A twitch under his eye as his lips fell into a frown. “What’s funny?” His voice was dark.

Winking, she replied, “You just look a little silly.”

“Silly.” Ben grit his teeth, ignoring the bubble of anger in his chest. He wished he’d bothered to meditate before leaving the ship--he needed to center himself. Let go of the anger. There was no need to lash out. He was better than that. Still better than that. “I see.”

_Feel your emotions. Let them fuel you. Show her you are not to be disrespected._

He suppressed the growl in his throat. Why couldn’t he drown it out?

“Oh, come on,” she said. “I’m only teasing.”

“Hm.” Just tell her to leave. It was that simple. “I’d like to be left alone.”

She cocked her head. “Alone?” Frowning, she leaned closer. “But you look so lonely.”

“Yes,” he said, “that’s generally the intent when a person wants to be alone.”

“No, no,” she replied, “there’s a difference between _alone_ and _lonely_. _Alone_ is when you’re sitting here by yourself. _Lonely_ is when you feel like no one wants to sit with you.”

Ben raised an eyebrow, regarding her with a guarded gaze, holding her there for long, breathless seconds. Lonely. _Lonely_. He wasn’t lonely. He didn’t _want_ to be around anyone else. He didn’t _want_ to deal with people, people to whom he was nothing more than an afterthought. A burden. Something to be confined. Something to be controlled. His feelings, his needs, his desires--all unimportant. Inconvenient.

_No. You are special. Your family is keeping you from your full potential. They want you to hide who you are. Who you can become._

His fingers curled into bleach-knuckled fists, quaking with restricted emotion. Blood knocked at his temples. Those words had haunted him for years--years that Ben had spent weaving a careful, protective barrier around his brain, desperate to shield himself from the tendrils of black influence snaking their way into his mind. He would wonder why it was happening to _him_ , why it seemed like no one else seemed to understand. He would wonder why that voice seemed so _right_.

“Hey,” the woman said. “Are you okay?”

But now he knew why. The grandson of Darth Vader. Of course it seemed right. He’d been born broken. Handled like a live bomb. This was his fate.

_No._

“Hello? Are you okay?”

 _This is your_ destiny.

“Hey--”

“Yes!” Ben snapped, trying to pacify the spasm under his eye. “I’m fine.” He cleared his throat, straightened his back. “Fine.”

The woman sat back in her seat, grimacing. “Are you sure?”

A tornado spun a storm in his skull. Words stuck to his mouth like paste. “Yes.” A long breath filled his lungs. “I am.”

“I don’t know.” There was a playful lilt to her voice. He hated it. “Men like you always have something else going on.”

“Men like me?”

“Oh, _yes_.” She seemed to believe this was a game. The energy radiating from her body was red. Salacious. “The dark, brooding types. There’s always _something._ ”

“Brooding.” Ben’s jaw hardened. “You understand very little.” He wanted to slap her. Or kiss her. Or both. 

_That_ idea was new. Exciting. But he shrugged it into the air.

She inched closer. “Help me understand, then.”

Her physical proximity stoked the fire in his chest. He wanted to reach out, pluck her interest from the air and crush it in his fist. Make her forget even the faintest memory of his face. It would take a simple command, just the slightest, least-obtrusive amount of influence. The words would roll like water from his tongue. Without any confrontation, she’d be gone. 

_This is the coward’s way out._

Ben stiffened.

_Show her. Show her your power. Make her respect you._

The resistance he’d crafted over decades was crumbling. He’d tried Luke’s way. Tried it for years. And where had it gotten him? He was still miserable. Still desperate. It was something he hadn’t wanted to admit. They didn’t work, the Jedi teachings. They’d only molded him into the embodiment of weakness. Willing to be walked over. Willing to accept betrayal.

_Your destiny._

Anger was a hard lump in his throat, his skin crackling with errant bolts of lightning. He imagined shooting his hand around her neck, pinching and squeezing at her arteries as she squirmed--and then how she’d sound squealing his name, naked, underneath his body. Lust burned, unwelcome, between his thighs. _That_ was new, too--and when he tried to shake it away, it clung to his brain like slime.

_Show her._

“Oh, wow, hey.” Her voice tore through his cloud of muddled desire. “What happened here?”

Time slowed, seconds moving like weeds through water. From the corner of his eye, he saw it, like a hooked talon puncturing his personal space--her hand, reaching toward him, around him, aiming for the still-sore scab that his shackles had left behind. The next moment he watched happen from outside of his mind, a stranger to his own thoughts; her fingers ghosted the throbbing patch of scalp, her skin like a match, blazing down the final frayed ropes of his restraint.

Ben snarled, seizing her wrist in his massive hand and charged forward, whipping her around and off of her seat. He dragged her through the cantina, so fast and resolute that he himself hadn’t realized that he’d brought her into the refresher until he was slamming the door behind her.

It was pure instinct that dug his digits into her shoulders and pinned her to the wall, his mouth smashing into hers with such force she flinched. Her fingers, eager, skimmed his arms--but he hated that, hated that she thought she could touch him, still--so his grip went from her shoulders to her hands, slamming them both above her head, leaving her helpless against his wet, anxious, unskilled lips. 

His mind raced, thoughts filtering into his brain in jumbled heaps. He wanted her, wanted to control her, wanted to _show_ her--show her his strength, his power, his authority. She’d beg for him, cry for him, _worship_ him, she’d spend every second under his grasp in breathless awe. Ben was above weakness, above ridicule, above her underestimation. He wanted to prove it to her. Prove it to himself.

Desire gushed out of him in fiery torrents, finally free of oppression, driving him to devour her. He’d never kissed anyone before, but he’d never imagined it’d be like this--never imagined how good it would feel to have a body writhing underneath him, how much he’d love having someone groan and gasp into his mouth. His movements were automatic--his tongue delving over hers, teeth clacking and nibbling at her lips, his hips nailing hers to the wall, his cock hard and painful and aching for friction.

In a brief moment of exhilaration, she wrenched away, cheeks pink, eyes wide. “Didn’t think you’d be this dirty.”

Ben’s eye twitched. “Shut up,” he said, and silenced her with a rabid kiss.

She groaned deep in her chest--and this only made him harder, only made him more aware of the hot heavy, need between his legs. He was so frenzied, so blind with hunger that even his inexperience failed to stall his impatience. Growling, he collected both of her small wrists in one hand, keeping them against the wall, and his other hand jammed down her pants, long digits seeking out her pussy.

His fingertips grazed her folds, and she whined, fueling his ferocity. Like a desperate animal, he groped at her cunt, dick pulsing as he marvelled in how it felt to touch: wet, slick, silken. He’d only ever known his own fist, and, _stars_ , what would it feel like to sink his cock into that? She bucked into his hand, trying to fight off the intrusion of his tongue with her own--every movement she made without his permission made his jaw clench. She still thought this was a _game_.

Sneering, he pulled away, wresting her arms behind her back and trapped them under his weight, pressing her chest into the wall. She moaned, tossing her head back in ecstasy, melting into the demands he was making on her body--and he hated it. When would she _shut up_? A furious hand clutched her neck, suffocating any further noise, while he worked her pants down her thighs, grunting as he exposed her flesh. Saliva pooled in his palate as he studied her naked cunt. It was flushed. Swollen. For him. 

And it was intoxicating. 

Ben squeezed her throat, leaning into her ear, rutting his arousal along the split of her ass. That sensation alone made him throb. Gagged noises of pleasure snuck from her mouth, and he gripped harder, wanting to silence her entirely. This felt good, having someone submit so wholly to his desires, his commands, having her so shameless and needy, just for him. No, no--it didn’t feel good. It felt _incredible_. And he wanted more.

“You want me to fuck you?” he murmured, the words sounding strange and foreign on his own tongue.

The woman whimpered, nodded against his hand, her throat bulging in his grip as she swallowed. 

Licking his lips, he smirked. _Yes_. “Don’t move.”

His breath was labored, leaving his chest in spurts and snarls as he reached down, fumbling with his robes, chin quivering with anticipation as he fought to free his erection. It occurred to him, briefly, somewhat subconsciously, that he was about to lose his virginity to a total stranger. But the floodgates hadn’t just been opened--they been demolished, razed to rotten debris. Passion had replaced his blood, wrath was pumping his heart, anguish asphyxiating his brain. The years of throttling every “dangerous” emotion he’d ever had were ash in the wind, and now he was nothing _but_ emotion, possessed by the pressurized explosion inside of his mind.

Panting, he pulled out his dick, jerking it once, twice, smearing his copious precum over his shaft. The veins thumped under his skin, crying out to the rest of his body. Inside her. He was going to be _inside_ of her. Sucking in a breath through his teeth, he prodded her cunt, coating the head of his cock in her juices, hissing as pleasure lit the nerves down his thighs. There wasn’t another second left to waste. With a shaking hand, he guided his length to her entrance, grappling with the curve of her hip as he pushed himself inside.

“Fuck!” he gasped, fighting the urge to spill himself already. 

He’d always fantasized, but never imagined anything could feel this warm, this wet, this _tight_. Choking on his own breath, he stilled himself, basking in the sensation, her walls squeezing and massaging his length. His cock twitched, ready to fill her with cum _now_ \--but he couldn’t let it end now, not when he’d only gotten a taste of all-encompassing bliss. Gathering his focus, he growled, grip bruising her thigh, and thrust again.

“ _Fuck_!” 

She sputtered a moan, straining against his strength to rock her ass into him. “ _Stars_ , you’re so _big_!” 

“Shut _up_!” Ben yanked back her neck, chills of bliss racing through him. “Shut up…”

He snapped his hips into her, hypnotized by the sight of his cock being swallowed her pussy. Lips parting in awe, he set a pace, ramming into her with jerky, rough movements, oxygen trapped in his lungs. Skin slapped skin, sweat beading between them, and he leaned forward, using the leverage to slam her tight cunt. A strangled moan escaped him, pleasure flooding his nerves, and he pulled her closer, driving himself into her again and again and again.

The rush of her pulse fluttered under his fingers, every beat of her heart confirmation of his control. He wanted to snip her artery with his nails, wanted to make her wheeze and gag and beg for his mercy--anything to solidify this feeling. Anything to ensure she knew who was superior.

Brain drunk on euphoria, he revelled in the melody of strangled sounds leaving her mouth. It almost disgusted him--how wanton, how reckless this was--and the thought of it only made him wilder, pounding into her, grunting with every frantic thrust, losing his hold on reality, his hold on himself.

“You like that?” he growled. “Is this what you wanted? Hm?” She squealed as he collided with something deep inside--and he _loved_ it. “Shit--fuck--”

His orgasm shredded him, his vision whiting out, and he fucked into her, rough and primal, as he poured his cum into her cunt. Gasping, he leaned back, easing his pace as the pleasure ceded from his body, leaving him like a glimmering tide left the shore, surrendering to the black silence of the night. His face fell as the electric spark of lust was doused by the slow trickle of returning agony. Frowning, he released her neck, pulling out of her and quickly tucking himself away. 

It didn’t seem fair. Everything had been so perfect. So clear. He’d felt strong and certain and powerful. And now it was gone--and he was empty. Broken. Lost.

He wanted it back--that feeling. He wanted it _back_.

_This is just the beginning. There is so much that you do not know._

Ben blinked, eyes drifting over the woman as she pulled on her clothes. He could _get_ it back.

_I can guide you. Come to me. Let me show you where you belong._

Heat burned his cheeks. Belonging.

“That was _amazing_ ,” said the woman, turning to face him now. “But--I, uh, didn’t get your name.”

His name. Words that defined his ancestry--ancestry that had done nothing but torture him from birth. Organa: a line of political royalty he’d never appease. Solo: synonymous with smuggler and thief. And _Skywalker_ : composed of a liar and--and--

“I don’t have one.” He rubbed the spot where he’d torn off his braid. 

She laughed. “What? You don’t have one?”

_No._

Jaw set, he pushed past her, pulling open the door and letting it fall shut behind him. He couldn’t stay here, anymore. He needed to get back to his ship. He had a place to go.

_You don’t._

**Author's Note:**

> This has been an idea I've been working on for MONTHS now, and it's finally finished! I loved the idea of Ben losing his virginity in a random hatefuck--this moment sort of solidifying his sexual identity for the future--and I wanted this chance to explore his character in this really difficult moment. 
> 
> I hope y'all enjoyed! Thank you so much for always supporting me and sending me your feedback! I love it so much. And I love YOU!


End file.
